Exiled Hero
by LeonhardEuler
Summary: Vince is a son of Athena whose father hid him in Japan to hide him from monsters and camp. When the he is taken to Camp Half-Blood, he seems to fit in. However, he shows that he is anything but ordinary even for a demigod. Months after his arrival, he gets wrapped into a quest that is seemingly impossible. After his quest, he is left questioning whether it was all worth it.
1. Chapter 1: I battle a pet from hell

I woke up to the buzzing of my phone under the pillow I was resting my head on. I opened my eyes and rolled on my stomach as my hands slid under the pillow. I hit the lock button from memory and sat up opening my eyes groggily. I turned 180 degrees and looked around my dorm room. The room wasn't small, but if was fairly tight. I was on the bottom bunk of a bunk bed pushed into the far corner of the room. Along the all-white walls ran a thick stripe of blue adding a little bit of color to the room, which the soft pale yellow light definitely did not provide. Next to bed was a window with the navy curtains drawn. Directly below the window were a small dresser with a miniature lamp, an alarm clock, and a teddy bear wearing the school uniform on top. The dresser was small because all we had to put in there were identical sets of the school uniform: a plain white polo shirt, navy blue slacks, and a navy blue blazer with the school seal over where the heart would be.

There are 2 desks in the room, the ones with the hard seats and the laptop-sized "tables" welded to a metal tube that ran all the way to the supports in back. They almost looked like the chair grew and arm, then was throwing a punch with it. One of the desks was at the foot of the bed facing away from it. The other one was facing the opposite wall and the wall with the window, pushed against the corner in a similar fashion. Free time was a luxury that most people really didn't know what to do with, and the school saw that as an excuse to work us harder. I'm not complaining, I'm just stating the facts.

I looked out the window at the boring apartment complex and the small portion of the Tokyo skyline that peeked over it. I go to a boarding school for "Gifted children", called Kawamura Middle school. The school was small, but highly respected. The rules were strict, but not any stricter than most Japanese schools. The standards were also high, but that is to be expected for such a school. My roommate – Tanaka Yuki – was a tall, lean kid in the second grade of junior high school like me. He looked very Japanese, but with a more chiseled face and harder expressions. His black hair was neatly kept the only hairstyle that anyone had at this school; short, with the bangs neatly swept away from the face. He was one of my few friends here. Now, I'm not going to give you some sob story, but let me just say I don't fit in anywhere — especially here. Why's that? Well, for starters, I am blonde with story gray eyes with moderately tanned skin (it's actually pretty different from the Japanese complexion). I take a calculus course usually taught at the last year of senior high school and I wasn't born here. So I pretty much have nothing in common with most of these people.

Here's the kicker – my name is Vince Greene. Notice how not Japanese that is? Well you see, when I was six, my father and I moved to Japan because it was in "my best interest". Yeah, right. I think he just wanted to get away from my mom, or lack thereof. My mom literally left me on his door step (who does that?) and only visited on my birthday every other year. But on my sixth birthday she got in an intense fight with my dad and after the school year we left the country. Yeah, it stings and I still sort of hold it against my mom – which is the only grudge I've ever held, even if it's still not very strong. If there is one thing I am glad about moving to Japan for, it's the psychological training. The Japanese are very stoic people and so with as much time I spent at boarding schools I learned to control my emotions. I never let anyone see me get angry, mad, or sad. I might give you a glare to try to intimidate you, beat you up if you really push me (never had to do that, but don't doubt me), smile, or just look like nothing interesting has ever happened. That's about all of my emotional expressions right there.

I literally shook my head trying to get myself out of my thoughts. I preferred to pretend like nothing ever happened and I just magically landed here. I got up, got dressed, and then left the room. I headed to the end of the plain white halls with navy doors, evenly spaced so that each room had a door that wasn't in front of another room's door. I brushed my teeth and all that stuff, but I did it alone since I always woke up an hour earlier than anyone else. I hate sleep – well, it's more like I hat the lazy and groggy I feel when I wake up before I realize I just wasted a good portion of my day doing literally nothing. "Do nothing that is of no use." One of my idols, Miyamoto Musashi, said that in _The Book of Five Rings_. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to read the book yet, I've just heard some quotes. The reason I love him so much is because he was straight up the best. He practiced and dueled, and won because of his skill. He had the tactics to pick the right place and time, knew how to get in an enemy's had, and had the swordsmanship to execute his plans.

I returned to my room, grabbed my phone and then started doing some math problems. If I have some free time, I will occasionally do math problems I find on the internet. Why? It's productive and I enjoy it. People think it's weird but usually don't comment on it. That's fine with me. When my roommate wakes up 15 minutes before class starts, I start putting everything away and read my e-mail. When he is all ready, we don't say much other than "good morning." In Japanese of course; although, my father still uses English with me when I am staying with him. He says that one day I might have to go back, and (should it deeply sadden him) I must be prepared to live there just in case. I am not sure why he doesn't want to go back; I know there's something he's not telling me, but I can't question him because he's parent.

I walk out the dorm into the courtyard. The class rooms are arrange in 2 parallel rows that end just to the side of the dorms. The classrooms almost look like motel rooms and aren't much larger. They even have a porch light on the outside wall next to the door. The boy's dorm is at one end of the rows, and the girl's at the other. Although, I can barely see the other dorm from mine, because the 2-story building (the dorms are also 2 stories) that holds all of the offices is right in the middle. We walk through the concrete courtyard and around the few picnic tables neatly spread out, and finally get to my first class. I don't remember much about school in America; all I remember is that it wasn't as strict. The classes dragged on what felt like forever (especially when I had to take a shuttle to the senior high school for math) in the complete silence except for the voice of the teacher and the scribbling of pencils. Another thing that singles me out: note taking. I don't take notes. I have a fantastic memory and my ADHD makes it hard to write and listen at the same time. Not to mention that I have dyslexia, so trying to write is hard enough (dyslexia is even worse with the complex Japanese characters). That doesn't help with the whole not-fitting-in thing, and thus my day is usually pretty boring since I don't really talk to many people here.

Eventually I was heading to Greek, my last class of the day. A couple weeks ago, my English teacher moved to Hiroshima out of the blue and they moved everyone in my class into Greek mythology with Mr. Brunner. He was a Caucasian male in his fifties or sixties. He had a full head of hair, a neatly trimmed beard (very strange in Japan, beards are considered dirty but he didn't seem to care.) and kind, gentle eyes. I actually kind of enjoyed the class. He spoke great Japanese, although every now and then he'd accidentally speak in Greek. However, I seemed to be the only one who hears and I stopped asking people if they heard it as well, since they'd just give me weird looks.

Today we were going over heroes. We talked about Jason, Perseus, Hercules, Theseus, and a few others. Every now and then he would scan the room to let everyone keep up with him, but he always seemed to linger on me for a second or two before going back to lecturing. After an hour of beating what seemed like every minute of their lives into our heads (I didn't know the myths were this long), class ended and we all started packing up. I was about to head out when he called my name,

"Mr. Greene, can you come here please?" Mr. Brunner asked. I cautiously walked over to his desk.

"Yes, sir." I responded. I couldn't read his facial expression.

"Will you be leaving the campus tonight?" He says in a very serious tone. At first, I got kind of annoyed. I am old enough to take care of myself; anyways, I've made it this long, haven't I? In the end, the genuine worry in his voice helps me suppress my annoyance. I nodded slowly.

"I need to speak with you, but it's not that urgent. Where will you be going?"

I suddenly he realized he just spoke in Greek. I don't know how I understood him or he spoke in Greek, but I responded in English trying really hard keeping all emotion out of my voice and hoping he wouldn't speak in Greek again. It unsettled me; mostly because I actually understood what he said. "I leave for my Kenjutsu practice in an half an hour."

"Ok, can you stop by my room after you get back? Don't you're not in trouble with me.

"Ok, sir. I've got to go; Good bye." I left his room, stopped by my dorm, and dropped off my school stuff. I walked, in my school uniform still, off campus and past apartment buildings, office complexes, and shops. Each building appeared to be a slightly different color, height, and design. Finally I reached the station. Large white concrete walls rose at least 30 feet high with large windows placed at regular intervals. Inside it was a shopping mall with catwalks on every floor, guarded by glass panes that served as railings. Right in the center of the floor is a large staircase that leads to the actual station. Below ground, the subway looks just like they do in New York; except that it was way cleaner.

I waited for a train amongst 10 or so people until I noticed someone staring at me. He was probably 17, wearing jeans the sagged to one side with a belt that had neat holes punctured in it every inch (the holes' edge was covered by some metal ring that showed they were meant to be there). He had spiky red hair, and earphones in. I looked at him and he got up. I tensed, but he turned around and walked away. He didn't stand out too much, but he was still a little creepy. My train finally arrived and I boarded it. What could he be here for? I looked to see if he boarded the train or not. He didn't, so I guess I was just being paranoid. I'm not sure which would be more unnerving; the fact he went to the same platform as me and left, or the fact that he boarded the same train as me.

I am worrying too much; Mr. Brunner was probably one of those people who didn't like people walking around by themselves. After 15 minutes or so I exit the train and walk up the stairs. As I reach the surface, I am surrounded by the same sight of ever-so-slightly mismatched buildings as before. I walk for a couple blocks then get to the dojo. Last year, my dad decided that I should take up Kenjutsu – the Japanese art of sword fighting. I liked it; and I didn't do if often enough that it interfered with my studies.

After changing, I wore a basic cloth tunic with large, loose pants also made of cloth that were the right length, but looked like someone was continuously aiming a leaf blower up the pant leg, I grabbed my _bokken_. A _bokken_ is a wooden katana intended for sparring; it is about 2 and a quarter feet long with a slight curve to one side. It has one sharp edge, but that's all you need. The bokken also weighs about the same as a katana, which is nice. After our warm-ups, we practiced our form for a little bit and then we paired up for duels.

I'm no Hercules – to say the least. At first glance, I'm scrawny and awkward. Although, I have an athletic build that is disguised by my lanky appearance. Anyways, I have gained some muscle ever since I've started, but I'm still pretty skinny. Until about a month ago, I've had great difficulty with this style of sword fighting. Unlike other styles, it's focused on control – every strike ends with the blade in the starting position, meaning I had to stop the blade at the end of the strike instead of letting it follow through. Also, every parry, dodge, or sidestep is followed by an attack. Thus it takes a lot of strength to sustain this style of fighting. [A1]

I stood a couple feet form my partner and bowed respectfully. We drew our bokken, and held it so the hilt was even with our hips and the blade was at a 45 degree angle leaning towards our opponent. He struck first – quickly jabbing his blade forward in a small, circular motion so that it tapped the tip of my blade to the right and then slashed downwards. As my blade uncontrollably tilted to the right, I stepped back to escape the attack. We were then in the same position as we started. We continued this pattern, someone would strike and the other would either counter or sidestep.

After a couple minutes, he tried the same attack as he did the first time but he telegraphed it pretty badly. Knowing what he was going to do, I quickly tapped his blade to the right in the same circular motion (since he was already moving his blade in that direction, he couldn't regain control in time) and slashed from right to left stopping my blade just before it smashed into his neck.

After 45 minutes of sparring, we were dismissed and left. I am no master swordsman, but I train hard and have improved a lot since I started– To be fair I was pretty clumsy at the start. I left the dojo and boarded the train, lost in my daily routine. I stood next to one of the poles by the door, and just before the doors closed a stray Akita walked through the doors on the other end of the train. I was surprised to see a stray dog at all, much less boarding a train. It had thick, white fur with patches of dark grey. It had a face that looked like a dog, but I could still distinguish its facial expressions. The way it's arches above its eyes (do dogs have eyebrows?) are scrunched as if in deep concentration. Some people gave the dog a strange look and gave it a wide berth, but no one said a thing about it.

It looked away from me, and methodically looked back in my direction. All of a sudden it transformed. It began to grow in size as its fur shrank in length, its coat turned a midnight shade of black, and its face morphed into that of a hound. I have even less of an idea of how no one noticed the transformation, since everyone was acting as if nothing happened. Once it was done with the transformation, it looked like a black version of Beethoven from that movie; that is if Beethoven was fed only steroids since birth and glowing evil, red eyes. The beast was the height of, well, a subway train. It was maybe ten to fifteen feet long, and very muscular. It was growling and to be honest I was kind of scared.

It started to slowly inch forward as people backed away from it. They didn't seem scared, just slightly annoyed. I don't know how they weren't absolutely terrified, but I was and so I started thinking furiously as adrenaline began to course through my veins. I was suddenly aware of everything around me at once; I saw the beast start to move forward, the buildings rushing by out the window, I noted each briefcase and handbag on floor, an old man sitting down behind me with a cane next to him, and several other things. The cane was an oak cane with a rubber nub at the end and it curved like a candy cane at the top. That would be pretty low, stealing an old man's cane, even in life-threatening situations. Not to mention, I'm not exactly sure he's seeing this demon that looks like it wants to kill me, and I don't need to deal with the police as well.

It tensed like it was going to pounce so I grabbed the cane in spite of myself, swinging it as hard as I could at the same time it pounced. I hit it square in the side of the head, but that only seemed to disorient it enough for it not to rip my throat out. However, it still crashed into me, launching me into the back of the train car. I held the stick with 2 hands, the rubber end facing the hound from hell like a spear – hey, with its midnight black coat and fiery red eyes it looked like a dog straight from the fiery place downstairs. It growled at me, and lunged again. I barely sidestepped in time and poked it in the eye with my cane. It let out a whimper and tried to corner me but I somehow managed to dive over the seat and the person sitting in it to get around the hell hound. The look on their face was priceless, and I would've laughed if this monster wasn't making the scene so scary.

I dash towards the other end of the car and opened the door. Thank goodness I wasn't in the end car. I opened the door on the other car, and prepared myself to jump. I can't believe I'm actually doing this; for a fraction of a second I stood there realizing I what I was about to do as the wind whistled in my ear. However, at the same time I realized it needed to be done, so I jumped; not bothering to close the door as the hound's head suddenly appeared in the door way snapping and gnashing its teeth. I had barely stumbled back to my feet and starting running again when I heard a deafening crash and the sound of metal tearing – similar to the same sound made when someone runs a key along the side of a car, only a thousand times louder. The hell hound had literally burst out of the previous car and tore its way into the one I was in. People started screaming and shrieking in fear, but at least they didn't run to the other side of the train; they stood against the wall forming an unintentional escape path.

I didn't think this thing could do that; but it would surely catch me if I continued to run. So I turned around can in hand, except this time I held it like it was a katana. It lunged at me and I slashed at its head and stepped back at the same time. I took a few steps back while it got back up as fast as it could and tried to lunge at me again. This time, I stepped in before it pounced and jabbed my cane into its neck. In a fury I didn't know I had, I attacked it without mercy. I continuously slashed, countered, and jabbed forcing the hound back. Whenever we arrived at a stop, both of us would slide backwards and I'd grip the cane with both hands like a staff to push it the side. It'd lunge again and I'd push it to the side again, resetting our positions.

Sometimes it would gain enough of its composure to lunge at me, but I'd sidestep and jab the cane into its neck. Most of the time it'd just try to bite or claw me. After 15 minutes or so, I was starting to get tired but so was the hound. I was mercilessly beating it and it was starting to slow. The bad news – so was I. The driver came one and said we had one minute before my stop. As the train was slowing down, I shifted my grip again to a more staff-like manner and leaned against the door to my right, hoping to catch my breath. It lunged at me but I didn't push it to the side hard enough. It bit my left forearm around the cane and I screamed in pain. It hurt a lot more than I thought it would. The feeling of the thick teeth slicing through my flesh was very vivid; like a thousand shots in the shape of a jaw. I shoved the cane down its throat when it tried to bite me again, trying to push past the pain. Luckily, this was at the same time we came to a stop at the station.

The deluxe-sized mastiff slid to the front of the car with a resounding crash as the train stopped; still choking on the cane. I spared no time sprinting through the crowds of people running away from the train as I ran towards my dorm. I swear I never ran so fast in my life. As I was getting to the school parking lot directly in front of the male dorms, I saw Mr. Brunner and 2 other people Americans standing on either side of him.

They both wore jeans, running shoes, and an orange T-shirt that said something I couldn't read. It looked like "Camp Hole-Blocd", but that made no sense. The boy on the left was about 19, tall with blonde hair, striking blue eyes the color of raw electricity, and a muscular build. The girl to the right of Mr. Brunner was actually more muscular and slightly taller than the boy. She had long brown hair that came down just below her shoulders, and sharp features. Her face looked like it was made to scowl.

"Hello, Mr. Greene. What's with the hurry?" He asked in Japanese. The weird part was the other two understood him, even though they didn't look like they knew any Japanese at all. Maybe I'm wrong, but they looked around them as if trying to find something comforting (cough, like something they can read, cough).

Was I just arguing with myself? Ugh. Anyways, he had a completely calm expression, but in the other 2 I could see a hint of panic and worry. It looked like they were trying to hide it really hard. I was so tired I couldn't think of an excuse. I replied in Japanese, with as much composure as I could maintain. It wasn't graceful, but hey I was starting to get tired. "There was this large black dog, and it attacked me. It was larger than this car, and had red eyes."

"It must've been a hell hound. We need to get out of here!" This time he replied in English, and the look of realization on the 2 American's faces confirmed my suspicion.. Their eyes widened and they opened the trunk grabbing a gold gladius, a bronze spear, and a bronze shield. Mr. Brunner then introduced me to the other kids and then took off in some other direction. The blonde one, Jason, looked at me.

"Where is it?" Jason asked nicely, but slightly rushed.

It took me a second to figure out what he meant. "I don't know; I stuffed a cane down its throat at the subway station and just ran."

Both raised their eyebrows and wore a look of slight amusement. Jason spoke up, "Come on Vince, we have to go."

All of us climbed in the car. Then Jason started up the car, and we started to drive off.

"We are we going?"

"To camp." Clarisse said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I raised my eyebrows. "And what camp would that be?"

"Camp Half-Blood. It's a camp for people like you and me, it's there to keep us safe."

I almost scoffed. If only he knew; I don't like it when people say "like you and me" because I never fit in. Never have and never will. Every time people say that I'll fit in, they're wrong.

"We'll see about that" I said darkly. It didn't take long for the hell hound to find the parking lot. Thank goodness we had already started driving. The traffic was light enough to allow us to increase the distance between the hell hound and us.

I've felt really tired ever since my adrenaline rush wore off. However, I couldn't get myself to fall asleep since I was worried we'd get lost, and then the hell hound would catch us. I decided to sleep for the 2 hours before the flight once we got to the airport. We walked through the security with no trouble. Well, any security worker who even looked at us funny received a terrifying glare from Clarisse that made them look away immediately – that counts as nothing, right? Finally we made it to the gate, and we sat down next to each other in the seats. They were typical airport seats; 2 black leather strips were laid across metal pipes with one horizontal across the row and one vertical so that they formed seats. I always found them amusing because they were cheap but they passed off as modern and fancy.

The flight was going to land in New York, so I guess that's where the camp is. I still couldn't wrap my head round what was going on. I think I remember hell hounds in some of the myths Mr. Brunner taught us, but that can't be the explanation – can it?

I started to doze off as I noticed Jason trying not to stare at me and Clarisse giving him a demanding stare. Why couldn't my life be normal? My eyes closed and the last thing I thought about was my dad. How would he react? Wait, why was I boarding a plane with 2 strangers rather than heading home to explain everything to my dad?! My dad was usually too busy to notice me even when I was at his house, so he probably wouldn't even notice. That left a bitter taste in my mouth. Even with these swirl of emotions I was too tired to do anything. So I drifted off to sleeping hoping it's all a dream.


	2. Chapter 2: I tip the first domino

I woke up, half-expecting to be in my dorm room. Unfortunately (or fortunately?), I find Jason shaking me. I open my eyes groggily and notice a bunch of people lining up in front of the gates for the flight. I sighed in exasperation.

"Come on Vince, we need to get going." Jason said. I stared at the airplane

I just groan and get grabbing my – oh, nothing. I realized I wasn't even packed and started to panic. I mean, how I am I supposed to survive in America without clothes, money, or anything like that?! Thankfully Jason saw my expression.

"Don't worry; everything you'll need is at camp. Some kids go there straight out of the foster system or even running away from home. You'll be fine." Jason assured.

I nodded my thanks and followed Jason with Clarisse close behind. She looked angry. It wasn't a fury, more like a deep annoyance. She was scowling really hard and occasionally muttering curses. I leaned over (and up) and whispered to Jason. "What's she so upset about?"

"She hates long-distance extractions – it's a lot of work for not much return" I raised an eyebrow at that last part. Jason looked a bit ashamed at his word choice. "Oh, that came out wrong. Don't worry; I'll explain everything on the plane."

"Even why I'm not worth it?"

He hung his head in guilt. I didn't really care; I knew I wasn't that important and never really cared enough to feel bad it. At least, that's what I told myself. I patted his back while smiling and said, "Don't worry about it; I was just messing with ya."

We finally got to the gate and got our tickets checked. We walked through the corridor and found our seats in silence. I got the window seat, Jason got the middle seat, and Clarisse got the aisle seat. We didn't talk until we were at cruising speed and there wouldn't be any interruptions.

"So, what is all this about?"

Jason tensed slightly, and then sighed. "You took Greek right? Then you should know something about the Greek gods, goddesses, monsters, heroes, etc."

"Yeah…"

"Well, they are real."

"Okay… shouldn't they be in Greece? I mean we're already flying all the way across the world; it's not much farther than Greece is." I was half-expecting him to go "Psyche!" Although, If he was serious maybe that'd upset Psyche? This was weird; if he was serious then... nothing. It wouldn't really impact me, right? I mean, I've lived 14 years without much trouble for them so why would they start now? That doesn't explain why I've been absconded from my life by two kids carrying medieval weapons. I calm myself, and clear my thoughts. I've never been one to panic. As Miyamoto Musashi said, "Take the world as it is." That is, never second guess the truth and never panic about it. Just take it as it is.

Jason said. "The gods move with the heart of western civilization. And right now that is in America."

I thought about it. If they moved to America, that means that Mount Olympus would have to be there somewhere along with the entrance to the underworld. "Two questions: How did no one notice their existence at all? In the myths they weren't very discrete."

"There's something called the mist; it makes people see what they want to see. Mortals will believe about anything other than the truth." Clarisse spoke up. Her scowl gave way a little.

"That leads to my second question. Why me? Why isn't anyone else with us?"

"Because one of your parents is a god – it's not uncommon, but demigods almost never meet outside of camp." Jason said.

"Which one is my parent?"

"We don't know. They have to claim you once you turn 13 and are at camp though. Although you are probably a child of Athena, since they all have blonde hair and grey eyes." Clarisse said.

"Who are your godly parents?"

"My father is Jupiter, or Zeus." Jason said – rather proudly if I say so myself.

"My father is Ares." Clarisse said, not much more humbly than Jason.

"Cool." I said calmly. I was trying to play it off as no big deal more for myself than anything else. It was a bit much too handle and I kept thinking of what this all meant.

Clarisse narrowed her eyes as she glared at me, deepening her scowl again. I raised an eyebrow. Jason had a slightly annoyed look. Then he exchanged a glance with Clarisse.

"Ok, what now?"

Jason thought for a little bit, searching for the right words. "You just don't seem very surprised."

"One of the wisest men who lived once said 'Take the world as it is.' I figure that panicking and second guessing everything in life isn't the way to go about taking this information. So I'm going to suck it up and make everything fit the best I can." I said while I shrugged. To be honest it took every ounce of will power not to freak out. But I have trained myself to use panic as a motivator. If you are worried something is going to happen, don't just think about what could happen prepare for what could happen. That's what I believe anyways.

We made small talk after that and watched a couple movies. It was a good time. I couldn't entirely stop thinking about how I left my dad though. My ADHD let me get pretty distracted, but it doesn't make me forget. I hope he's alright; living alone for the first time in so long must be tough. I slowly began to nod off.

* * *

><p>It turns out they weren't kidding. After an awkward trek through the New York International Airport with no luggage, we made our way to camp. Standing on the hill next to the pine tree, the view was fantastic. There were white marble buildings and a collection of just fewer than 2 dozen cabins. Each cabin was constructed completely differently; each designed with a different theme. One of them was short, painted deep-sea blue, and had all sorts of sea life or fishing stuff decorating the outside. One looked like a giant marble mausoleum with big bronze doors that had holographic lightning bolts on them. One had flowers all over the place. On the window sill, where the gutters would be, etcetera. They were probably arranged by your godly parent.<p>

Jason gave me a tour, first letting me meet Mr. Brunner (who I had forgotten was in this mess) and showing me the orientation video. I immediately determined I didn't like the director, Mr. D. We moved on, and we got to the cabins last. We peeked in each cabin, and my suspicions were confirmed. Each cabin was assorted by godly parent. After visiting the major cabins on the "male side", we visited the minor female goddess' cabins and finally made our way to the major ones.

The first major goddess' cabin was Aphrodite's. Inside, the walls were bright pink and the air was probably 75% perfume. It was awful. Everyone in the cabin was gorgeous which made sense considering who their mother is. It was clear not everyone was here because almost every bunk space was taken. There were posters of all the "hottest stars" next to almost every bed. Most of them waved and said hello, so I waved back. I swear every girl in there had more makeup on than they had skin.

We passed a silver building for the maiden goddess, Artemis. Apparently the cabin is just honorary, but when the hunters come they use it – whoever they are. We moved on and went in the Athena cabin. Jason was pretty sure that this would be where I went. Why? Well everyone in there had the same eyes – dark, stormy grey. Also, they had blueprints all over the place with bookshelves hiding the walls. They were all working furiously, and only a couple of them looked up at us. I wouldn't mind living here at all. They had some of the same interests I did, and I noticed all the bunks were pushed in the back of the cabin as if sleep could wait. I couldn't agree more; I always viewed sleep as unproductive but grudgingly necessary.

The Demeter cabin wasn't that interesting and the amount of posters for tree huggers that was overwhelming. After that Jason took me to the tool shed. It seems that a common theme for the tour is, "you're not alone." I wasn't convinced. However, I did notice that Jason was apparently well respected. It seemed like everyone knew who he was and pretty much everyone liked him. He said he'd been here for just over 2 years; I realized that with how old he was he probably came from somewhere else If I could barely make it as a son of a goddess without getting attacked, then there's no way he came here only 2 years ago [A1] as a son of Zeus.

When we got to the tool shed, I cocked an eyebrow and gave Jason a quizzical look. He motioned for me to be patient, and then opened the doors. I was not prepared for what was inside. It looked like a Greek army had taken over one of James Bond's secret weapon stashes. The walls were covered by panels that were slid on an angle and each weapon was neatly laid in a foam depression to that nothing would fall off. Each weapon was made of bronze and even though this place was actually well lit I could tell a faint glow was emanating from it.

"Feel free to check out any weapon you want." Jason said, eyeing me with curiosity. There was almost everything; there were xiphoi (swords with a leaf-shaped blade), bows, and even some firearms. Everything was either made of bronze or had bronze ammunition. I tried them all but none just clicked. The xiphos was definitely the most comfortable, but I couldn't use a shield since I wasn't strong enough. I wasn't very comfortable with a spear and a bow felt pretty awkward.

"We have quite the selection, don't worry." Jason said soothingly, trying to reassure me. I wasn't convinced; however, since I had the feeling like what I wanted wasn't here. Maybe I was just being difficult. Ugh, I wish there was some way to tell whether or not that weapon was for you – like that shoe sole fitter in the TV ads. After, trying out every weapon, I decided that I would go with the xiphos.

We then headed to the mess hall for dinner. The mess hall was a typical Greek building of white marble and pillars going all around the outside except that there was no other structure inside the pillars. Inside there were wooden tables with one for each cabin. There were maybe 30 kids here, since most people didn't stay year round. I sat with Jason while we ate (The dishes magically created food) and didn't talk a whole lot, but we didn't ignore each other. We had a good time; especially once dinner was almost over I was experimenting with the dishes. They were polylingual, could fulfill the wildest request, but could only summon food (almost scared Jason out of his wits when I requested a hell hound from my dishes). After dinner, Mr. Brunner, no Chiron, got up from the head table. He announced that due to someone misusing a fire arrow in last night's capture the flag game and almost burning down the forest (I guess you could use weapons, although that sounds ironically dangerous for a supposed safe haven), the dryads wouldn't allow capture the flag for three weeks. Most of the kids glared at someone at the Apollo table who hung his head in shame.

We were about to walk away when all of a sudden someone shouted "look!" and pointed behind me. I turned around and saw nothing. When I faced forward again everyone was staring at me.

"What?" I asked. I then noticed most of the kids were looking above me, so I looked up and saw a hologram of an owl floating there. However, it only lasted a couple seconds before it disappeared leaving some confused faces.

"I told you so." Jason said with a smirk replacing his mildly surprised expression. Unsure of whether to smile or to yell at my parent for waiting so long, I decided to smile because it made me happier out of the 2. My mother was Athena, cool. It was definitely the cabin I wanted to be in the most. I had a foreboding feeling though, like some inner disagreement with her before even meeting her. Maybe that's me overanalyzing how anti-climactic my claiming was.

I said goodbye to Jason and headed back to my cabin with my new half-siblings. A tall kid came over and introduced himself to me as Malcolm, the head counselor. I asked him about the schedule and the other details as we walked to the cabin. When we got to the cabin, he assigned me a bunk (I got the bottom one, below some guy who didn't speak to me) and we talked a little bit more. I found I had a fair amount in common with them, which was nice for a change.

* * *

><p>I woke up, and found no one else was awake. I thought this was the early riser cabin. Huh. I found a calculus textbook and set it down on the table before I went through my morning routine. I soon started working out of it. Maybe half an hour later others started waking up and working on things or getting ready. In no time, everyone else was awake and bustling around. Everyone was working and time passed as I lost myself in my work just like everyone else. I liked it here for many reasons: when you wanted to work, no one thought you were anti-social; when you wanted to talk and have a good time, no one thought you were slacking off; and finally when you need some time to blow off steam, no one sees you as weak. I felt like I fit in for once – I found people who understood a lot of what I did.<p>

Eventually, Malcolm told us to round it up and we started cleaning before inspections. By the time we had everything organized and cleaned up; the inspector came to check out our cabin. He was short for his age, which was about the same as Jason's. He was Hispanic and had a mischievous glint in his eyes. He wore jeans, the camp shirt, and had some sort of tool belt around his waist.

"What would _you guys_ do for a good rating?" Leo asked with a devilish grin.

Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Leo, how about not lock you out of the forge for a year?"

"What a kill joy…" Leo said with a small frown as he wrote something down on his clipboard. I guess he was a son of Hephaestus and I also guess that the threat wasn't empty based on the way Leo reacted. It's weird here. Everything seems so relaxingly serious. Everyone is so relaxes, yet everything is extremely dire. Interesting.

We went to a rather uneventful breakfast where we made small talk. Okay, I guess they really are my half-siblings because most of the breakfast they talked about architecture much to my annoyance. I mean, sure the math of architecture is interesting, but not _that_ interesting. After an hour of boredom, we went to arts and crafts for our first activity. I never liked my artistic talent (or lack thereof), but people always told me that's because I'm a perfectionist. I made a bust of Athena where half her face is smirking but then flows into the other half wearing a scowl. It wasn't any better than anyone else's, but I was happy with how it turned out.

Next we had lessons in fighting with demigods. I was sort of excited, since I love sword fighting. We started off with some preliminary dueling. I was paired up with a kid who looked 15. He was a couple inches taller than me, and was just as athletic as everyone else. He was wielding just a xiphos, as was I.

We stood about 3 yards apart. I unsheathed my sword and squared my hips. I ever so slightly brought my heels off the ground in preparation.

"Go!"

I decided to play passive as my opponent slashed. I parried and attempted to follow it up with an overhead strike but he easily blocked it. I barely blocked the next strike, or the next 3. I couldn't keep up. Every time I would parry he would already be striking again. I kept trying to think how I could gain the upper hand, but I was too focused on not getting my head chopped off. I knew if I tried to roll out of the way he'd get – his reflexes were pretty fast.

Finally he made a mistake when he slashed one way and slashed the other consecutively. That's not that bad either, right? Well, he telegraphed it, a lot. However, I wasn't fast enough to take full advantage of it. So I quickly stepped into the strike parrying it and in the split our swords were touching I followed it up with a moderately soft jumping knee to his chest (more like a hopping knee, but whatever). It was just hard enough to send him staggering back and I swiped at his feet with the flat of my blade. He fell backwards and pointed my blade at his throat.

I shook his hand as we congratulated each other on the good duel. Of course, I did awful. I have a talent for being awful at everything I do. I'm mentally shrugging right now, if you can't tell. A minute later we had our breathing back to normal and we were at it again. It started off the same way as last time. I was frantically trying to use leverage to parry his strikes that were almost too fast for me to stop. I took a swing in a slight lull but I timed it wrong. His blade hit the handle of mine and it went skidding off to my right. He sheathed his blade and we repeated this routine for 15 minutes. I only won one more time.

The rest of the hour was spent learning a disarming technique. It was fun, actually. Thank goodness I am not proud of my swordsmanship, or I would've had the biggest hit to my ego ever. Ok, I'll admit that I was middle of the pack. But for someone who trains (even if it was twice a week[A4] ) I should be better. When I told myself it was because they train too, I couldn't help but feeling like I was making excuses. Eh, only one way to fix this – work at it. I would get to that later.

The next activity was archery. I was bad at it. Not being hard on myself either, I was just plain bad. I have room for improvement, right? Yeah, it's not a half-full or half-empty thing – it was just plain empty. The day flew by, and I began to get to know my half siblings better. I wasn't really good at most of the activities, but I could barely get by, thinking my way through everything. The last activity on my schedule was a free period. I couldn't decide what to do, but then a realization hit me.

I would make a katana. I would forge my sword with my own two hands and train like my life depended on it – which it probably did. I went into my cabin and scanned the shelves of books. I knew that you had to fold steel to make a katana – not literally, but the process was just as tedious. I found a book on sword-making techniques and checked the table of contents to verify. I began reading the book. I am very easily entertained, but there are few things I actually enjoy. Starting a project without guidance and putting a lot of time and effort into it is definitely one of them.

Katanas are not easy to make. First off, even though celestial bronze is fine it isn't the quality of steel I needed. Katanas were famous for their ability to go through many battles without damaging the blade very much if at all. Three different alloys were used in the creation of a katana; dubbed the hard, medium and soft metal. I decided to construct my blade the same way as the most famous black smith did; no need in settling for less than the best.

It wasn't long before we had what I imagined was a typical dinner and had to head to bed. I waited 30 minutes after lights out using a reading light to read the book. I got some strange looks since I was reading this book for a good portion of the day, but I didn't really care. I was on a mission from myself.

* * *

><p>Eventually I knew everyone was sound asleep. I quietly got out of my bunk, grabbed my book and left the cabin. I grabbed my sword in case the harpies found me, and walked to the forge. I wound up using the glow of my sword to not trip, and prayed that the harpies wouldn't see my blade. Thankfully they didn't find me.<p>

I closed the doors to the forge, and then settled on creating the ores first. I couldn't do it perfectly because it would take too long and too many resources, but I knew what I had to do. I walked to forge and sat in front of a furnace. I grabbed some celestial bronze, and melted it in a vat while I searched for charcoal and something with carbon in it. Carefully measuring everything, I melted it down then added a small, but just right amount of carbon. I cooled it and then ground the celestial bronze into dust. I put the dust in a vat and mixed pieces of charcoal with the sand before heating it up. The hardness of the steel is determined by how much carbon I use.

After a couple hours of making the "celestial steel" as I called it, I had 3 slabs (one hard, one medium, and one soft) that were maybe 3 feet long, 6 inches tall, and 8 inches deep. I then headed back to my cabin and slept for a couple hours. When I woke up I was really excited knowing today I would be making my blade. While it may seem strange that a katana felt so much more comfortable in my hand than the xiphos; they were actually very different weapons. The katana had one edge, while the xiphos had two edges; the biggest difference was that the Kanata was about 2 and half feet long, and the xiphos was about 1 and ¾ feet long; and finally the katana weighed one and a half times what the xiphos did.

I was really distracted all day. After almost getting my head chopped off several times, almost hitting several other people (and Chiron) with arrows, and launching a new marble bust I was working on across the arts and crafts room, Malcolm told me to take it easy for the rest of the day. So I headed over to my cabin to relax. Ok, that's a lie. I might've used some pillows and cut some of my hair to put on the bed so that it'd look like I was sleeping. It was barely a handful of hair by the way; I couldn't make it too obvious. I grabbed my book and nearly sprinted my way to the forge.

When I got there, it was nearly full of people. The sound was comparable to a bomb exploding, over and over again. I grabbed my slabs and brought myself over to a furnace in the back corner of the forge, grabbing some ear plugs along the way. I focused myself on my work to ease my excitement. Every day for the next week[A5] or so followed that pattern. The first 2 days after that I would be excused after the first 2 activities or so. Malcolm then decided I must be sick. Every day I'd wear a hat I bought from the camp store so no one would recognize me.

At first, I grabbed some of my soft steel and, after some calculations, shaved off the metal on the outside of the box. I then smelted it together into a solid rectangular box using a mold, roughly the size of the katana (but small enough it could fit inside the katana). I then took my hard and medium steel and melted the shavings the same way as before. I took the medium steel and then fashioned 2 rectangular boxes much thinner but a little taller than the last one. I smelted them so that the tall edge of the boxes was against the taller edge of the medium steel box. As I melted it together, it looked like a poorly written "U". I then made a mold in the shape of the full katana and inserted my "U-tube" in the mold. I melted the hard steel and poured it in the mold. After it all settled and started to cool, I sped up the cooling process by submerging it in water.

I was sweating hard by now, and had to rapidly heat it until it wasn't magnetic and then cool it all the while keeping the blade wrapped in a mixture of clay, ash, and water. After I was all done, I was exhausted but proud. Someone cleared their throat right next to my ear and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I turned around to face Malcolm and took my earplugs out. He had a mildly amused and slightly annoyed look on his face; almost as if he couldn't decide which one he was feeling.

I grinned sheepishly as I realized I forgot that metalworking was on our schedule. "Hey."

"Would you like to explain to me what you're doing here?"

"I made this." I smiled more confidently this time and showed him my blade. It wasn't polished yet so there were still bits of clay muddling the metal and the surface was still very rough. However, I was very pleased. While I actually took much shorter than most sword smiths, the celestial bronze had a major part in that. In actuality I took a fair amount longer than anyone more than an apprentice would. But the end product was very fine if I say so myself. I haven't tested it, but I could tell. It felt strong and very sharp (it was only going to get sharper).

"What on earth is this?" He asked as I realized it was a bit different. The blade gave less of an orange glow and more of a blue glow. It looked like someone was continuously shining a really, really dim LED off of it from all directions.

"It's actually made of 3 different alloys with celestial bronze as its base. The varying amounts of carbon, charcoal, and heating/cooling patterns, give the blade a stronger martensite structure to the different molecules. This…" I started going in-depth into the construction of the blade. Malcolm was looking at me weirdly. "What?"

"Where'd you learn to do all this?" Malcolm asked in shock.

I simply showed him the book and shrugged. "I had to extrapolate some of the processes for a couple of things, but in the end it was mostly the book. I'll show you the blade after I'm done with the handle, these are amazing."

"You've used them before?"

"Yeah, a couple years ago I learned a little bit of Japanese sword fighting using this style of sword, called a katana."

"Ok, then. You're done right?"

"Umm…" I said as I went over the rest of my checklist, and then nodded.

"See you at dinner."

When dinner time came, I was relieved. I sat with my cabin mates and talked about stuff. I got asked a lot about what was wrong. I simply just said that I had a lot on my mind. They never really pressed the matter. To be honest, as with most things, I didn't really care either way. In general, I discovered apathy spares you a lot of pain.

I hid my katana in my mattress (I used it to cut a slit in the side), and sat in my bed wondering how I'd continue my training. I knew some kendo, which was traditionally practiced alone, but I needed to know more than that if I wanted to be great. After I was sure everyone was asleep I set an alarm on my watch [A6] so I didn't lose too much sleep, and went to the bookshelves. I noticed that a few books had fallen, so I picked them up and put them away. I was just finishing up, when I noticed one under the bed. The spine was untouched, so I doubt it had been read much. I tilted my head to read it and my heart about stopped.

The spine read, _The Book of Five Rings by Miyamoto Musashi._ This book was still regarded as one of the greatest books on strategy ever. Furthermore, it was written by, in my and many other's opinion, the greatest warrior who ever lived. I couldn't believe it; it was too good to be true. I grabbed the book and read it with one arm under the pillow so my alarm wasn't too loud. I decided I'd practice my swordsmanship later as I was bubbling with excitement.

* * *

><p>It was 2 weeks that I've been here now, and it was started to feel like home. My archery skills were better, I learned a lot about monsters and tactics against them, and I made a few friends. I was on my way to the Hephaestus cabin during my free period. It was still April, and I had a couple of months before everyone came to camp. I knocked on the door, and thank goodness Leo opened it.<p>

"Wassup?" Leo said with a big grin. I really liked Leo; he was funny, relaxed, but always got the job done. He was amazing at making things, exactly why I am here.

"Leo, I need your help."

"What's in it for me?" His eyes narrowed, and his smile faltered just a little bit. Everyone always came to Leo for a bunch of petty favors and I knew it annoyed him. It was only because he knew I wouldn't ask for his help for something small that he didn't shut the door right there.

"Have you ever made an automaton form scratch before?" He raised his eyebrows, and I knew I had his attention. "Take a walk with me, it's complicated."

He agreed and we walked through along the beach as I described my idea. You see, I love sword fighting and really want to learn how to use my katana better. However, the technique is actually very different from the Greek style and no one else can teach it to me. Thus I, with Leo's help, planned on making 3 to 5 automatons. Fully functioning, dueling robots that would have increasing difficulty and different sword styles. The difficulty would be controlled from a laptop that predetermined reaction time, force, skill, and strategy, by controlling basically any and every component. We made a deal – I make all the blue prints, and he'd make it.

* * *

><p>Another week passed and I was almost done with the blueprints. I woke up early and went to bed late (shush, don't tell Malcolm) to work on them. I was adding in notes on how to vary the different parts for the control aspect of the project when I felt someone looking over my shoulder. I looked up and saw Malcolm. We both raised our eyebrows at the same time and laughed.<p>

"What's that? I didn't take you as one to be interested in architecture." He inquired, still smiling.

"You'd be right about that. A project the Leo is helping me out with. He told me if I drew up the blueprints he'd make them."

He studied the blueprints for a few seconds and gave me an impressed look. "That is actually really good!"

I blushed slightly from the praise. I did everything I could to not stammer. "I used a lot of mechanics books and a couple of biology books to draw the designs using machines to simulate the biological functions of a human. I also modeled the 'brain' of the automaton after ours; using quantum computing I can get around the clumsiness of wires and more effectively simulate the human mind. I can't simulate emotions, but I can get them to strategize using predetermined attack methods."

He gave me a pat on the back and said, "You know, Vince, you actually do anything you set your mind to. I am proud of you."

"Thanks for being so understanding with all of this Malcolm, I really appreciate it." I said genuinely. He looked a bit surprised by this, but he knew what I meant. I spent more time on my projects than the other kids, and didn't think twice about it. He knew me better than anyone here except for, maybe, Leo. So he knew I never said anything sentimental unless it really meant a lot to me.

"You're welcome, see you later." I waved good-bye as I finished up my blueprints. I ran over to the forge where Leo was working on the outer shell of the automaton. I handed him the blueprints with a huge grin on my face. He smiled mischievously and took them. He had a couple of siblings who worked on the project with us. I gave him an appreciative nod and ran off again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Here's chapter 2! Hoped you liked it. Again, tried to keep the dialogue a tiny bit awkward but not too awkward. I hope I didn't go too in depth with the whole forging thing; I just wanted to show how much he could accomplish when he put his mind to it.<strong>

**Anyways, please review! I will actually read reviews and maybe respond. I might PM you, or respond in author's notes... I'll just wing it XD**


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